“No, it was Amy. And why are we whispering?” I ask her.
“You started it.” Charlotte shrugs. “I just went with it. Amy? Why would she burn down the store?”
“Remember that fireman you dated? Phil? He came by my house the morning after everything happened and said they had evidence it was arson. Amy was the only one in the store and she said it started from the garment steamer.”
“Oh my gosh, I hope you told the police. Have they arrested her?”
I shake my head again. I don’t know how to tell my friend they can’t arrest anyone because Emmanuel got to them first.
“Why not? You don’t owe her anything, Evie,” Charlotte presses.
“She’s dead,” I tell her. “There was a house fire the day after the store burned down, and Amy and her boyfriend were caught inside.”
“Really? That’s… a strange kind of karma and a waste of eye candy. Her boyfriend was hot.” Charlotte smirks.
“Who was hot and what karma?” Louie’s voice from behind us has me jumping out of my skin.
“Holy shit, don’t sneak up on a girl.” I gasp, a hand firmly planted on my chest.
“Evie’s store fire wasn’t an accident. Her employee did it. And then, the next day, the girl’s house burned down with her and her boyfriend inside it,” Charlotte explains. “Karma, right?”
“Karma or a psychotic Mexican,” Louie mumbles under his breath before repeating, “Who was hot, Charlotte?”
“Amy’s boyfriend.” Charlotte’s smirk widens.
“Good thing he’s already dead then,” Louie grumbles.
“Phil was looking rather fine still,” I chime in.
“Who is Phil?” Louie asks.
“Oh, just the fireman Charlotte dated a few years back.” I smile at my friend.
Louie looks to his wife. “You dated a fireman?”
“Mhmm.” Charlotte nods.
“I’ve been told she has shitty taste in men.” I chuckle as I relay what Emmanual said.
“Had,” Louie corrects me.
Something on the television screen catches myattention. “Wait! Can we turn up the volume?” I point to the screen. “I know those men.”
Charlotte picks up the remote and the reporter’s voice starts recalling the three home invasions resulting in multiple murders and fires.
“This happened today?” I ask.
“Seems that way. How do you know them?” Charlotte replies.
“They were all judges, at the pageants.” I swallow, my throat dry. Then the reporter mentions one of the homes included a man, his wife, and two teenage daughters.
“Oh…” Charlotte’s eyes bulge out of her head.
“I feel sick.” I run from the room, straight into the bedroom I’ve been using, and then into the adjoining bathroom.
Falling in front of the toilet, I empty the contents of my stomach. This is my fault. People are dead because of me.
“Evie, I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to see that.” Charlotte rubs a hand up and down my back. “Louie, get some water!” she calls out.
